A wet vac is essential with four cats (unwillingly) and four allergy prone inhabitants. Especially the cats, who don’t always deign to use the litter box when they have something up their A.., and who think that vomit is just another way to save the snacking for later. Kicking and screaming, I had to succumb to my husband’s “cure” for our 20-year-old litter box woes. She was getting beat up every time she used the community litter box, so we made one in our bathroom. Yuk. Getting out of the shower and picking your wet way to the sink on tippy toes, due to litter speckles, is at the bottom of my “like” list.
Since my bathroom and bedroom are linked, the first change for the litter release from kitty paws is my bedroom rug. So it gets….well, littery pretty fast. And my rug gets dingy from the hard use.
My kids’ rooms have no excuse. They are just messy slobs, and require wet vac repair on a frequent basis.
But I have not been using the wet vac recently. Actually not for several months. The last time was to clean the mysterious patches on my son’s carpet. Actually, he did it as I was tired of the same patches returning like a badly designed crop circle.
Apparently he, or I, forgot to empty the dirty water.
Last week I dragged out the wet vac for another run at my carpet, and to clean the discovery of a blob of something that looked like poopy vomit on my daughters’ carpet that no one admits to. I lined up the kids and cats and interrogated them closely, but none of them would look me in the eye.
So I got to work. Why me? I am told that I am the maid of all work because I am off on Mondays and Fridays, therefore I have time to clean up everyone elses’ mess.
Yes, I am a pathetic limp dish rag.
Without suspicion I opened up the canister to add fresh water. And made the horrifying discovery of two discrete gigantic 6 inch amoeba-like blobs of something that looked like pudding. I think they were having amoeba sex because when I opened it they were two, one on top of the other, then slowly oozed to the opposite corners. I was overcome by a smell so noxious I can only say it was a mixture of moldy socks, dead fish, cat vomit, feces and something else mysterious that I can’t dwell to long on without feeling nauseated. Let me re-capture the moment.
“AAAAAAAA!”……..Retch, gag, retch….. “BRENT!”….retch, gag…….”HELP!”
I fumble for the lid and spill some on the toilet carpet. I go into rant mode. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! I SPILLED IT! OMG, WHAT IS THAT? I THINK IT’S ALIVE!”
My husband’s calm under stress is legendary. He is the pole, I am the squirrel. And I am full-bore into squirrel mode. I finally hear him coming.
“What is wrong.” Weather report: calm with a hint of a cloud on the horizon.
“Oh, thank God you are here!” Sob. Sob. “It’s HORRIBLE! I can’t deal with it and YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT AWAY NOW!”
“What away”. Weather report: calm with a wall cloud forming on the horizon.
“The ALIEN in the wet vac!”
“Have you overdosed on your meds?” Weather report: wind has started to gust.
“Hold your nose and I will show you!” With a sob, sniffle and deep breath, I uncover the Evidence of a New Lifeform.
“Just flush it down”. Weather report: dark clouds forming
Sniffle. “I TRIED. It’s a gelatinous mass and LOOK I got some on the rug! Just open the door and smell the toilet area now!”
Brent opens the door. A visible waft of noxious odor wisps out. I slam it shut and gag again. “Ok, here’s the deal. I will clean the mess on the floor if you take the Alien outside and flush it out with the hose.”
Brent’s eyes narrow. Succinctly he states “You suck”, then takes the closed container and stomps off. Weather report: tornado in the distance.
I apply mask and gloves and grab a bag. With head averted, I dump the toilet rug into the bag and then into another and double knot them both. With arms stiffly away from my body, I tiptoe-run to the garage can, drop it, remove my gloves and run to wash my hands.
Brent returned as I was walking into our bedroom. “That was awful. I don’t know why I got sucked into that job. It’s always me who has to do the really nasty work!” In a small voice I say, “Thank you, I couldn’t deal with it. I was just too grossed out.”
“Yeah, ok, you interrupted a very important meeting. Don’t have any more emergencies for the next 15 minutes.” Stomp, stomp. Weather report: tornado rising back into the clouds.
Whew. Ok, I felt bad, but if you had seen what was in that container you would have screamed for a Brent too.